Okay, so there is a phenomenon that for some reason has lived under the radar for decades. And at this very moment, I am sitting in the midst of it typing this post on my Blackberry, over what some people apparently consider a feast. Where am I, and what is this ghostly phenomenon? A food court.
Every city, except New York, is subjected to the hamster mazes that are shopping malls. But the cheese, so to speak, lies in these hubs, these apexes, these nuclei referred to as food courts. Food courts are generally strip malls inside of non-strip malls displaying a hodgepodge of shitty food. At least I guess it’s food. I mean, let’s face it, the only thing I, and most people eat in these damned things is bourbon chicken, and that’s only because of the free giveaway. Other than that, I really couldn’t tell you much about the other vendors. Steak Escape…ummmm I dont think they really sell steak (I hope not), I think it’s steakummmms. Boardwalk fries. You guessed it. Fries, that you can put vinegar on. Pretzel places, cookie places, candy places. Whatever, just give me the bourbon chicken, and tell me some lie about how Asians are really displaced cajuns, or something like that.
Anyway, I just wanted to say…today…at the food court…I was waiting in line for my bourbon chicken, and some crazy soccer mom too old for Ugg boots (ENOUGH WITH THE UGGS!) orders sushi. SUSHI. FROM THE FOOD COURT. I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and say, “Lady…I know you love the food court, but you have to remember that you are buying food in a mall. So…think it over.” Then, when she gets all flustered, I’ll reach up and grab a sweet morsel of what I’m told is chicken, drenched in a sauce I’m told is bourbon, and say, “Here, try this.”